Year 5
by stringbean4231
Summary: Nothing to do with PJO. This is just some random fiction writing that I'm doing.


p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 24px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"Chapter 1/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 17px;" /p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"I woke with a start. It was happening again. My mother was going crazy. Some days I woke up to the sound of her running around the house banging into the walls, and slamming all the doors. Open... emBANG/em! Close. I looked over at my rusty wall clock. It was there when we moved in five years ago. It was the only object I've ever owned. Besides the three outfits that I rotated throughout my useless life. It was 5:30. I needed to get ready for school. Not like my mom cared, she never even fed me. I wonder if she even knows I'm still apart of her life. I was almost sixteen, and I weighed 65 pounds. The kids at my school always called me anorexic. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px" If only they knew./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px" I popped a mint into my mouth. What? Did you actually think I had enough spare money to buy a toothbrush and toothpaste? Hah. I ran down the creaky wooden stairs. "Bye mom!" emBANG/em. Close. Did I really expect an answer? /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px" However, my throat choked up when she didn't respond. When we moved here, my dad, my best friend, left us. I loved my dad with all my heart. Then one day he just left. Before you could snap your fingers. Even though there was something special with me and my dad, me and my mom were always close too. So when she started losing it, I almost started losing it as well. She should've known how hard it was for me. She should've been there for me. But instead, I was in my room, alone, crying my eyes out, having a mini asthma attack on top of everything. It was awful, the worst day of my life./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px" I remember every detail of it./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px" Slowly swallowing my sob, I walked out my front door, and to the bus stop. I braced myself. "Hey Lazy Laura!" Joe shouted. My name was Cassie./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px" They don't know that./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px" I ducked my head letting my auburn curls fall in front of my face. He was one of the kids that didn't know. He called me anorexic... and a loser... and retarded. He gave me a little shove. I guess I wasn't reacting as quickly or dramatically as he wanted. I shrugged it off, which I knew would irritate him more. It did. Luckily the bus pulled up, and the bus driver was the one person I knew I could trust. I always talked to her about my problems. Each day I would sit behind her alone. Everybody knew not to mess with me in front of her. We were even on a first name basis. She knew my real name, Cassie, and I knew hers, Shirley. Shirley was my only friend and I appreciated that she was always there for me. /span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"At least someone cared./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px""How are you, hon?" She asked as we pulled away from the stop./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"I shrugged and grunted. "She was banging into walls again this morning."/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px""Did she feed you?"/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px""No," I simply replied./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px""Did you feed yourself?"/span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;"span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"I looked away and didn't respond. I know, I am fifteen. I should know how to make and cook my own food. And I do. But sometimes, I just wanted my mom to notice, care even, if that's not too much to ask. So, I let myself starve./span/p  
p style="margin: 0px; text-align: justify; font-size: 14px; font-family: Helvetica;" We didn't talk for the rest of the bus ride./p 


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